It's a...

I have the most wonderful, funniest, spirited little boy a proud momma could ask for. He is my everything and my world. When we decided to complete our family with another child, I immediately got excited (and a little tired) and wondered who this new person might be and how he/she will fit into the dynamics of our family. I wondered how I would manage two under two. And, just like the first time, we were blessed with a pregnancy as soon as he looked at me and lifted his eyebrow. Fertile bunch I suppose. I am incredibly thankful as I know for many of my friends it has not been so easy. And to be pregnant while still breastfeeding is an added challenge. Don’t underestimate how thankful I am. It was an added gift to get a positive pregnancy test on the morning of my first day back to work after my year long maternity leave.

Dood and I started to wonder right away if this one might be a little girl. We have a boy, maybe this one will be a girl. His opposite and partner. His buddy. We had a name picked out and referred to the bump by that name. On June 13 we went for our first ultrasound about mid-way through the pregnancy. I told the tech I didn’t want to know the gender but my husband did so don’t say it out loud. She told me when she was going to look and I closed my eyes. They exchanged silent words and that was that.

We no longer referred to the baby with the girls name, just in case.

Fast forward two weeks when we did the Color Me Rad 5k. I had told Dood that I wanted him to “tell” me there. So we wore all white and, armed with our pink and blue color blasters, we waited patiently in line to get our before photos done where he would blast me with the corresponding color of the baby’s gender.  Now, I have to hand it to him, Dood is amazingly skilled at keeping secrets. Many people tried to get him to tell the gender only to be shut down. I painstakingly tried to avoid searching his face and voice for any clue as he kept redirecting conversations but that was tough. Part of me wanted to know but I am happy that I waited for this moment.

Here we are in line to have the photos taken. I tell the photographer my master plan and how I am using this as a gender reveal photo shoot. I’m nervous and excited. Here is my little family about to learn if we will be the parents of two boys or if we will be that 'million dollar' family with one of each. If it’s a boy will I be satisfied or will I want to ‘try’ for a girl. At what point do you stop? No, whatever the outcome, this will be the youngest child. Two and we’re through.

Ok, here goes! I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The feel of the colored cornstarch coating my body feels strange. Freeing. Liberating. No more waiting. When I open my eyes I will know the truth. Will it be a boy or girl? How will I feel about it? What if I am disappointed? What if what if what if. For goodness sakes already - open your freakin’ eyes and take a look!

I open my eyes to see the color.

It’s a…

Frat Boy Parties

Last night was rough. For some reason I thought I would try and tweak Keegan's bedtime a bit. It resulted in him falling asleep super quick and being in bed 30 minutes sooner than he normally does. He was also fairly easy to get back to sleep the first time he woke up. Wow! This is awesome.

I went to bed at 10.

Less than 5 minutes later he's awake again (I'm not really surprised as he doesn't sleep more than 40 minutes anyway) so I go out and bring him back to bed with me. It's the same thing I do every night, Pinky.

Then 10:00 became 11:00.

And 11:00 became 12:00.

Keegan is dancing in the bed. Literally dancing. He holds my head for support on the soft surface and awkwardly dances while singing.

Seriously?

Did I mention he's 14 months old?

I called out for Daddy to come take my little partier away since I needed to work in the morning and he didn't. He tried for about 10 minutes to get him to sleep which I knew would fail. He had no sleep in his body and was fully energized for a play session.

They go downstairs. No point trying to force sleep that will not come. It's what I would have done too.

Keegan's toy of choice: That F- ing Corn Popper!
Keegan's voice of choice: The Loudest Yells and Calls EVER!

So much for sleep.

I lay in bed tossing and turning hoping for sleep to come through all this racket while watching the clock tick away. I briefly considered just getting up for the day by 1:30. I'm too tired for that crap. I'll just lay here and get more frustrated that I can't sleep.

Then I realized. Keegan is my child. Yes, I know he's my child, but he's really my child. I am not a good sleeper. It takes me forever to go to sleep and I wake frequently. I went years without sleeping through the night and that was long before baby and before Mr. Newman. You know what this means, right? He probably won't sleep through the night forever. He hasn't yet.

I give up.

2:00. Dood comes in with what I imagine to be bloodshot eyes and a weary look on his face. "I'm exhausted"

Yup. Me too. Give me the monster and he can hang out with me til the sun comes up. I'm not getting any sleep anyway.

Well wouldn't you know it. Ten minutes later he snuggles in for a spoon. Too bad he messed up the coordinates and ended up with his foot on my head and his head near my arse. Ha! Not a good spot to be in, buddy. But it's sleep. I drift off peacefully thinking he's got to be tired enough to give me a few hours.

3:30. "I want boob." While he didn't actually say it, pulling up my shirt as he screams in my face is pretty much the international sign for boobs.

4:00. Ok, he's got some warm milk in his belly, and he's GOT to be tired. This should be it.

5:30. Flopping around like a fish out of water and complaining. I ignore him. He goes back to sleep.

7:00. Shit. I slept in. Well, I slept later than I should have. Where's Keegan? Head to arse again and I'm on the edge of the bed while that prime real estate near the wall remains un-slept in. Awesome. Who needs a queen bed with you sleep on an area the size of a small cot?

Since I can't wear sweat pants to work I chose my wrinkly cotton dress that's better than sweats and I have the worst bedhead ever. A little under eye concealer and I stumble downstairs ready to start the day.

Guess who will be going to bed at his normal bedtime tonight?

Who am I when I'm not mommy?

It’s funny how absolutely everything in your life can change in an instant. I mean everything. As I returned to work after my one year of government-paid maternity leave (for which I am incredibly grateful) I struggled once again to find my identity.

I have always worked. It may have been at Blockbuster, for provincial government, or as a laborer for odd jobs such as painting but I worked. I earned my way. Then suddenly, I was unemployed. Not only that but I was “stuck” with this screaming thing that couldn’t do anything for himself and needed me 24/7 and I had no idea what the f I was doing. I longed to go back to work. I knew how to be a business analyst. I was good at it. I was interested in it. No one screamed at me. I didn’t feel the need to hide in a closet and cry for 20 minutes.

Then, as time passed and my little thing grew and began to become a person, it got a little easier. Oh look, he can sit on his own. Oh he can roll over! Haha, look, he is petting Newman. This is easier now that he can eat solid food and feed himself. Boy do I love this baby led weaning stuff! Did you see that! He stood on his own! Oh my goodness! Ahh! He took two steps! He’s walking! When did he start walking!? And the list goes on. Those first giggles and smiles. First foods, first steps.

My first love.

I love his dad immensely but my goodness, it’s incredible the love I have for this little person. I would go to the ends of the earth and back without batting an eye for him. I would gladly give up my life for him if I needed to. It’s quite intense and it’s something I was not prepared for in the slightest. I knew I would love him but I had no idea the extent of it.

I loved spending all day and all night with him. Of course, I loved my little mommy moments too where I got to go to the store alone but I always rushed home to get back to him. And he loves spending time with me too. He is happy when I come home and sad when I leave. He’s my little wingman.

Cut to that last day of maternity leave. The sick feeling of dread creeped into my psyche. That feeling of loss. That horrible feeling that tomorrow I would be spending the most time I have ever spent away from him. That I would have to wait all day before I could hold him, kiss him, nurse him, see him smile and giggle. I felt ill.

But we get through it.

But now the pressure is on mommy to once again struggle with her identity. This is something I was not prepared for. I need to relearn the job, the people, the processes. I need to focus on work while trying to not watch the ticking clock and counting down to the moment I can shut down the computer and speed out of the parking lot to go home to see him. My priorities and viewpoints have changed. It’s a tough transition.

I’m actually really excited about the goings on at work and it is a very interesting point in my career but I face it with hesitation knowing that this exciting stuff is not the same kind of exciting as my home life. It’s all adjustments and recalibrating I suppose. But still, that face. He’s what keeps me going. He is my fight, my drive, and my determination.

My love.

Photo credit: Kara Rohl